Temperance
by Scarper
Summary: The end does not always justify the means, nor does it explain them. Various one-shots based around Claude and Alois.
1. Cocoon

Alois Trancy is entertained by the simplest things, Claude learns.

One morning he had observed the boy playing with a set of dominoes for at least twenty minutes before sweeping them all off the desk with an irritated shout of something like "These are pointless, Claude! They just fall over when you touch them!" He ought to know by now not to leave such weak amusements lying around, but he can't help it. The look of disgusted, reluctant sympathy for the dominoes on Alois's face is irresistible.

This afternoon, it is a hammock. He had found it collecting dust in the coachhouse and decided it would make a welcome addition to the garden. Claude strings it between the two apple trees that never seem to produce any fruit in the fall, much to Alois's disappointment and Claude's relief. Rotten fruit is so troublesome to clean off the grass.

Alois is suspicious, at first. He is entirely unconvinced that it'll support his weight and circles it with the hunting grace of a squirrel, round and round the trees until Claude turns away from the window and back to the stove to continue his lunch preparations and begin on dinner. The next time he looks outside, up to his elbows in flour and glasses abandoned on the counter, Alois has settled gingerly in the hammock. The earl's bare feet are the only thing visible from the thick web of soft rope, swinging aimlessly in the air, boots carelessly abandoned some feet away.

When Claude brings lunch out on a tray - it's useless to try to coax Alois inside if he's occupied – he finds the earl curled up in the hammock with his feet pulled up to his chest, coat drawn neatly over him, his small stocking feet sticking out at the end.

"Claude," mumbles the purple bundle, "I'm a caterpillar now."

"Yes, Your Highness, but I have brought lunch." He really doesn't have time for these games, not again, the upper guest rooms really must be aired out, and he has no intention of putting it off another day.

"The question is," Alois continues, shifting a bit; that knot in the rope is digging into his side again. "The question is, Claude, is the hammock a web or a cocoon?"

Claude pauses. Certainly, this must be handled delicately. "If it were a web, you would be the lunch, not the recipient of lunch."

The caterpillar earl is silent. He listens to the quiet clinking of the butter knife as Claude cuts the toast – hasn't he done this before leaving the kitchen? – and the sound of his butler retreating up the lawn, until the garden is still again. He waits until the brief gusts of wind stop, and the leaves overhead are still to pull the jacket off his head.

On the plate, carefully trimmed out of the buttered toast and embellished with slices of fresh fruit, lies a pair of small butterfly wings.


	2. Butterfly Kisses

Claude would call them formalities, the small pecks he leaves on his master's head after tucking the boy in diligently. It is simply part of his job; another routine he obeys religiously, like everything else in his day. They mark the end of a charade to him, the removal of his mask after the candles are snuffed out to reveal the fiend beneath it. He will roam the halls of the manor in silence until morning, expressionless and formal. If he is to be called a fiend, he is a quiet and orderly one.

This too has become routine for him; walking the same hallways and patrolling the grounds in the same way each night. Windows he had once leered out of into the darkness he now simply glances through to ensure the security of his territory. Candlesticks he had once covered subtly with webbing he now brushes with a finger to check for dust – yes, once again, Hannah has neglected this one.

It is simply routine, simply habit. Shortly, he will abandon it, and take to the shadows once more with his silent laughter and devil's dance.

Alois would call them butterfly kisses, the tiny gestures of affection Claude bestows upon him after concluding his most important duties. It is completely unnecessary; an extravagant element to the role of a butler that has been added to supplement Alois's desire for affection. They mark his loyalty, his attentiveness to each and every of the earl's whims. In the morning, his butler will wake him with the same unshakeable calm and poise, caring and efficient. If he is to be called a butler, he is an unorthodox and inappropriate one.

This too has become routine for him; giving the same reassurances and holding the boy at each sign of weakness. Dissatisfied expressions he might have ignored he hurries to rectify. Tears he might have distained he jumps to wipe away – yes, Claude is quite thorough in his care.

It is more than a routine, more than a habit. It will continue, for as long as Alois is alive, with his bright blue eyes and his unseemly laughter.

Claude sits, now, looking down at the bloodied shell of his master. It was simply a routine, but before he stands, he leaves the smallest of butterfly kisses atop the mass of blond waves.


End file.
